Unspoken Words
by ForeverMeansAlways
Summary: Hotch saves Prentiss from the unthinkable, but how will she cope when the man who hurt her joins the team without Hotch’s consent. Hotch/Prentiss
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Criminal Minds or Jodie Picoult's novels

**Summary:**Hotch saves Prentiss from the unthinkable, but how will she cope when the man who hurt her joins the team without Hotch's consent. Hotch/Prentiss

**A/N: This idea came to me and I wasn't really sure how to start it, but then I read Nineteen Minutes and I just loved the beginning. So the beginning paragraph (with changes) belongs to Jodie Picoult. **

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**~Unspoken Words~**

"_The thing that most people don't understand was that a rape victim and a victim of a fatal accident were both gone, forever. The difference was that the rape victim still had to go through the motions of being alive," Jodie Picoult._

**Chapter 1**

In ten minutes you can take a walk, check your email, watch a third of a half-hour television show. In ten minutes, you can bake cookies or talk to a friend; you can fold laundry for a family of three.

In ten minutes, you can pick up the phone to call your mother and tell her you love her. You can read a story to a child or draw a picture. You can run a mile. You can sew a hem.

In ten minutes, you can stop the world, or you can just jump off it.

In ten minutes, the unthinkable can happen, and life as you know it can change forever.

*******

Hotch heard crying. Muffled cries. Cries of struggle. Cries that made his heart skip a beat.

And it was coming from the copying room just pass the coffee station. He was at the BAU finishing up some paper work, and it was late, so it surprised him when he heard the noises. As he grew closer, the crying was drowned out by another voice.

"Shut the fuck up!"

And another voice. "Stop moving and you won't get hurt."

Hotch pushed opened the door and froze at what he saw. A woman was laying on the floor with her arms above her head, pin downed by a man nearly three times her weight. At the other end, another man he didn't recognized loomed over her, his face buried in her neck as his hands roamed her unwilling body.

By the time Hotch realized what was happening, the man who was pinning the woman down bolted to the other door from across the room. It took longer for the second man to pull himself together, and Hotch gladly helped him by slamming him into the nearest wall. Hotch was stronger than he appeared, and he proved it by gripping the man's neck, suffocating the guy's lungs from much needed air.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Judging from the way the man dress, Hotch guessed the guy worked in the building. It sickened him, knowing that everyday they went out to catch criminals, and yet they were already in the building he worked.

The man struggled to breathe, and with no sympathy, Hotch loosened his grip.

"The bitch deserved it," he spat ruthlessly.

Hotch wasted no time decking the guy in the face. Pain shot up his arms when his fingers suddenly curled and cramped up. But the result was more than satisfying. The man stumbled backwards, holding his now bloody nose. It actually made Hotch's throbbing hand feel a little better.

Anger ripped through the man's eyes and Hotch realized too late that he had hit a sore spot with him. The next thing Hotch knew was the guy's fist slamming into the side of his face, and a second after that, the man was gone.

Hotch pushed himself up, more than determined to run after the bastard, but a muffled moan caused him to retreat.

She was curled up in the corner, her legs pulled up against her chest. His stomach dropped at the realization that he knew her. His blood boiled. Those bastards hurt her. He felt ready to throw up.

"Prentiss?" he asked, unsure of how to go about the situation. He reached out to touch her hand, slowly though, so he wouldn't startle her. He did anyway, and she let out a cry that was so unlike her, it caused him to freeze. Never had he seen Emily Prentiss look so vulnerable, so frighten and confused. He realized then that she looked like one of their victims. He didn't like it.

"Emily," he tried again. This time she glanced up to meet his eyes. He saw the fear in them. Saw the way her eyes darted around the room, looking for a way out. "Emily, it's me, Hotch…Aaron."

"Hotch?" She finally seemed to register that fact, and once she did, she threw herself into his arms. He caught her against his chest and he didn't dare let her go. She was shaking against him, and Hotch held her close to him, afraid to let go. Her essence was that fragile in his mind, that vulnerable. With one misplaced breath, she would disappear off the face of the earth, and he would be left with nothing. He couldn't stop thinking about that horrible moment – that moment where that guy was on top of her, assaulting her. He hadn't known before, he hadn't fully understood, just how much his existence depended on hers.

By the time she pulled back, there was no trace of fear written on her face, only slightly shaken. However, Hotch saw through the solid armor of courage she wore around her. Her mind had created an image of bravery and selflessness which she lived off of. It was incredible, and showed just how tough Emily was. He realized then that the protection wasn't to keep people coming in; it was to prevent emotions from spilling out.

"Emily," he said gently. "Did they… they…?" He was dancing around the word rape. He just couldn't bring himself to say the word.

"No."

He sighed in relief. "We have to get you to a hospital."

"No." Emily forced herself up, limping away from him. He realized then that she was more hurt then she appeared.

It surprised him how reluctant she was to go. "You're hurt. You have to –"

"No!" she shouted, shaking her head vigorously.

"Emily, look at me," he said gently, as if he were talking to Jack. He reached out to cup her cheek, letting her know that she wasn't alone in this. "Those men tried to do something horrible. We put these guys behind bars for a living."

"I…I… don't want to go."

He took in her bruised eye and wrists. Her shirt was torn open, and a heinous looking hickey was slowly beginning to form on her neck. Her pants were undone and ripped. Red marks covered her stomach, which would no doubt turn to bruises in a few short hours. Hotch realized then that she didn't want to go to the hospital because she didn't want to be a victim. She didn't want to be a case. She didn't want to be seen weak and broken. But did she really think that he would think any less of her if she went?

"Come on," he reached out for her, and she sort of stumbled into his arms as her legs gave out from under her. It both surprised and worried him when she buried her face in his chest. He assumed it was for comfort, she felt safe with him. He sensed she wasn't telling him everything. It worried him.

"It wasn't rape..." she told him, choking back a sob.

"It was almost," he clarified. "In my book that counts as rape."

"Even if a rape is reported, the chance of the guy going to prison is slim. I'm sure Reid knows the statistics."

His instincts flared. He ran an appraising eye over her figure. She wouldn't look at him. She shifted her weight, she cradled her stomach, her posture shouting defensive and trapped. He sensed that there was a reason behind why she didn't want to go to the hospital. Something similar must have happened before and no one helped her. It was the only thing that made sense.

She was shaking and she desperately tried to cover herself with her arms.

"Here," he took off his jacket and wrapped it around her.

"Thank you."

By now she was almost back to her original, courageous self, and it worried him. She was blocking out her emotions, refusing to accept what had nearly happened. It wasn't healthy. "Emily, I'm taking you to the hospital." He took a step towards her, to which she took a step back. "I'll go with you. I'll be there. I promise"

It felt like an eternity before she finally answered. "Okay."

"Okay," he repeated her answer, sighing in relief.

It was going to be a long night.

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**What do you think? Should I continue?**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks soooo much to those who reviewed. Truly means a lot and keeps me writing! **

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_"When I push you away, is when I need you the most," ~??_

**Chapter 2**

Cursing under his breath, Hotch quickly sat back down in the main lobby of the hospital. They had been waiting for over a half hour and not one nurse had taken them in yet. He stole a glance at Emily across the seat next to him. Her face was pale. Her hands were hidden in his jacket. She was shaking, and Hotch bet she didn't know she was crying.

"Emily?"

Hotch's voice actually startled her. She hadn't been where he thought she was. She might have physically been sitting next to him, but mentally she had been floating, hovering in her brain, watching her past of the poor, sad, broken girl who she once was. She turned to look at him, and she silently wondered if he could see the dilemma processing behind her dark brown eyes. They were rich, glossy, and almost crystal clear; just waiting to be shattered so her past could be spelled out in an agonizing river of tears.

"Emily," she heard his monotone voice come again, "you're going to be okay. We'll catch those guys."

She hadn't really heard him, but somehow she found herself replying, "I'll be fine, Hotch." It was a lie, and she could tell that Hotch knew this. She could feel the weight of his worry pressing down on her. Who knew that the words you never got around to saying could settle so heavy?

Emily suddenly shook her head and folded her arms around herself. "I want to go home and take a shower," she said, in the smallest of voices. "I've changed my mind."

Before Hotch could protest, a woman wearing a trowel's layer of cosmetics approached. "Emily Prentiss?" she questioned. "My name's Janice. I'm a sexual assault advocate."

As Janice led them to another room, Hotch couldn't get past the uncanny makeup. If this woman had been called in for Emily, how much time had been lost applying those false eyelashes, that glittery blush? How much faster might she have come?

Janice stopped outside a door with the number 139 written on the outside. "It's a pelvic exam," she told him delicately.

If possible, Emily paled even more and stepped closer to him, gripping his arm tightly. "He… he didn't rape me. I don't…need one…"

"Sweetie," she said gently. "This is not your fault."

Emily didn't look to sure, which worried Hotch. "Please, Hotch?"

Behind the fear in Emily's eyes was the understanding that even with this stranger, she would be alone. It pained Hotch to see her like this. Vulnerable, scared, alone. He sighed, knowing that he couldn't go in there with her. "Do you want me to call Garcia or JJ?"

"No," she told him coldly.

He cupped her cheek with his hand and used his thumb to wipe away a tear that escaped her eye. "I'll be right out here. If you need me, just holler. Okay? I have to make a few calls anyway."

Emily's face contorted. "No. You can't tell anyone. I don't… I don't want them to know," she told him, struggling with words.

"I won't tell them," he promised.

Janice held out her hand. "Come on. That's a girl," Janice said sweetly as she led Emily into the room.

Hotch turned on his heel, but a voice stopped him. He whirled around, more than surprised to see Janice still standing in the doorway. She had her hands on her hips, her eyebrows were raised, and she tapped her foot to an off beat tempo. Her posture shouted defensive and maternal. He didn't like it.

"Yes?"

"How'd you get the black eye?"

He had been so preoccupied with Emily, he completely forgotten the guy had decked him in the side of the face. Frowning, he wondered what he was going to tell the team without breaking Emily's promise. "The guy hit me."

"Did he?"

"You think _I _did this?" Hotch asked, incredulously. When Janice just pressed her lips in a fine line, he added, "Why would I have brought her in then?"

"I've dealt with many rape cases, and let me tell you that it wouldn't be the first time." With those words said, Janice returned to the room, slamming the door in his face.

Outside, Hotch balled his hand into a fist and struck it against the nearest wall. He pummeled the cement again and again. He did this even as the tears came and a nurse led him away, to wash the blood off his knuckles and to bandage the scrapes on his palm. He did this until he knew Emily wasn't the only one hurting.

*******

Emily wondered if this woman knew that her patient was a husk, a shell ready to break. You'd think someone who'd gone to medical school would be able to hear through a stethoscope that somebody was empty inside.

Janice asked her to remove her clothes for evidence, so they could use an ultraviolet light to examine her body. But Emily didn't need to be told what to do. She already knew from first hand experience.

"I know the procedure."

Janice eyed her cautiously, before glancing down at Emily's medical file that went back to her grade school years. "You've been through this before?" It wasn't a question, just a statement, and Janice gave her a look of understanding as she said it.

Emily drew in a sharp breath as she tried not to remember the horrible ordeal. "Yes," she whispered, but she never quite brought the word to life.

*******

"Garcia,"

"Hotch?"

She sounded tired, and that's when he realized the time. "I'm sorry for calling so late. I need you to do me a favor."

"Now? Can't it –"

"No," he said, harsher than he had intended. "It can't. I know it's late, but I need you to get me video surveillance from the camera in the copying room at the BAU. Can you do that? Look between times eleven and midnight."

"Okay…"

He could sense her wanting an explanation, but frankly he wasn't ready to give one. And if the camera caught it, she would find out soon enough. Sighing, he pulled his car into the parking lot of Emily's house. Janice told him Emily would need another pair of clothes, but he had been reluctant to go. It was Emily who told him she'd be okay for awhile.

"Thank you, Garcia."

He prayed that she would fine something. They needed that surveillance footage. Hotch knew the statistics of a rape case, and since she wasn't raped, that footage was really the only hard core evidence they had to get this guy behind bars.

*******

Hotch sat in the chair next to Emily, with his right hand in a cast. The nurses told him he broke it after smashing it into the wall nonstop. Sighing, he focused on the winding wheels of the recorder. It was easier than concentrating on the words coming out of Emily's mouth, an exhaustive description of the previous night. It was only after he was inside that he realized this was more of a trail than an advantage. He had to sit very still and listen to Emily's story in excruciating detail, smiling at her in encouragement and telling her she was doing great, when what he really wanted was to grab the detective and ask him why the hell he hadn't locked up Agent Harris yet.

Garcia had called back. All the cameras in the BAU were shut down. Hotch didn't think it was a coincidence, but he had no way to prove it. Apparently, luck wasn't on their side today, and Hotch prayed that Emily's story would pull through as strong enough evidence.

A tall, sad-eyed man with sandy hair sat across from them, a man who'd most likely seen one to many cases like Emily's. "I'm going to have to ask you a few questions."

Emily looked down at the table and shook her head. Hotch reached for her hand and squeezed it, letting her know that he was there for her.

"Where were you?" the detective asked her.

She was wearing a black t-shirt and sweatpants that Hotch had brought, plus his coat. He'd forgotten to bring hers back. "At the BAU," she said. "I forgot to finish a report from the last case."

Hotch wished she would have left it until the morning. "What happened next?" Detective Fitzgerald continued.

Hotch listened to her describe the man he didn't know, one who worked three floors below and tried on numerous occasions to go out with her. She turned him down every time. "I figured everyone was gone. I was going to go home, but I really needed to get the report done, because it was already three days late. It turned out Agent Harris hadn't left. He wanted me to apologize to him."

"About what?"

"I embarrassed him in front of his friends."

Hotch's head shot up. "What?"

"Agent Hotchner," Fitzgerald said, "I'm going to have to ask you to remain silent." He nodded at Emily to continue.

Her face contorted. "He was harassing me. Wouldn't leave me alone until I agreed to go out with him." She was visibly struggling now. Hotch could see it with every word, every breath. "When I said no – earlier that day – he backed me up against the wall and kissed me."

"What did you do?"

"I kicked him and then threw my coffee at him."

Hotch wanted to know why this hadn't been reported. Under the table, he clenched his fist. "What happened that night?" the detective asked.

"He… he snuck up from behind me. I didn't know he was there until he grabbed me around the waist. I fought him and was winning, but then his friend came in."

Detective Fitzgerald looked squarely at Emily. "I know this is going to be difficult," he said, "but I need you to tell me exactly what happened between you three. Like whether either of you removed any clothing. Or what parts of your body he touched. What you said to him and what he said to you. Things like that."

Emily fiddled with the buttons of Hotch's suit jacket. "The larger one... I don't know his name… he grabbed me from behind. I tried to fight both of them, but they were so strong. They threw me to the floor and beat me." Emily swallowed. "Agent Harris said, 'don't tell me you don't want this.'"

Hotch gripped the edge of the table so hard that he thought he would crack the plastic. He took a deep breath in through his mouth and held it. He thought of all the ways it would be possible to kill Agent Harris."

"I tried to get away, but the larger one pinned my hands down. It was like a game to them," she told them, choking back a sob.

There was a bullet, Hotch thought, but that would be too easy.

"Agent Harris… he… he… ripped open my shirt and unbutton my jeans. I told them to stop, but they didn't," she said, stumbling over words. "And then he… he stuck his… hands down my pants."

Drowning, Hotch thought. Slowly, in a sewer.

"Did anyone hear you screaming?" Detective Fitzgerald asked.

"Hotch did, I guess," Emily said, her voice distant and vague.

A rusty knife. A sharp cut to the gut. They had a case once were the victims had to live for days, watching their insides being eaten out by infection.

"What did Agent Hotchner do?"

"The one who was pinning me down ran away. Hotch pulled the other one off me and hit him."

Maybe, Hotch mused, he would do all of these things to Agent Harris. Twice. No. Make that three times. But then what about Emily? What magical solution would take away the stain he'd left on her forever?

"Agent Hotchner?"

Hotch blinked, and he realized that he become someone else for a moment – someone he hunted for and arrested everyday – and that the detective had been speaking to him. "Sorry."

"A word outside?"

He followed Fitzgerald into the hallway.

"Look," Detective Fitzgerald began, "you're FBI. You should know. There's not really any evidence. There was no semen. There was no video footage."

It took Hotch a minute to find his voice. "Are you saying that she's lying? She's not. The bastard must have turned off the camera or erased it somehow."

"I never said she lied. I'm just saying, even if there was semen, the chances of putting him behind bars are slim. Sure, she scratched the guy a view times, but that's not enough."

"She was beaten," he pointed out. "She has bruises to prove it."

"Agent Harris is part of the FBI," the detective told him gently. He wasn't arguing. Wasn't trying to be a pain in the ass. Just stating a horrible fact. "His grandfather was a senator. His father followed suite. He has connections that will be hard to break."

Hotch's jaw clenched. "If a murder suspect told you he was innocent, would you just let him walk away?"

"It's not quite the same –"

"No, it's not. Because the murder victim is dead and can't give you any information about what really happened. As opposed to Emily, the one who's inside telling you exactly how she was nearly raped, and you aren't listening to her."

The detective sighed, clearly irritated with the cruel truth. "Look, I promise I'll do everything in my power to get this guy to pay. I'm just warning you now, though." Detective Fitzgerald took a deep breath as Hotch inhaled sharply, preparing himself for the truth. "I don't think we have any evidence to catch this guy."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks soooo much to those who reviewed. Truly means a lot and keeps me writing! **

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And soo sorry for the long update. School has been crazy, as they're starting to cram everything in before finals.

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**Chapter 3**

Emily hadn't asked him to stay, but she hadn't asked him to leave either. They were at her apartment, and she was sleeping soundly next to him. He had promised himself he would leave as soon as she fell asleep, but even then, he couldn't seem to bring himself to leave her. There was some illogical part of him that believed with one misplaced breath, she would disappear off the face of the earth, and he would be left with nothing. In his mind, she was that vulnerable, that fragile. He couldn't deal with that, so instead, he settled on watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

Hotch pondered over Agent Harris's trial – a trial that he would make possible, even if there was no evidence to prove it. Until five hours ago, Hotch had advocated that their society took care of criminal justice in a courtroom. Now he wasn't so sure. A trial might be more civilized, but emotionally, it couldn't possibly pack as much satisfaction.

A moment later, he found himself at Emily's computer, Googling the word rape.

61% of rapes were not reported to the police. If a rape is reported, there's a 50.8% chance that an arrest will be made. If an arrest is made, there's an 80% chance of prosecution. If there's a prosecution, there's a 58% chance of felony conviction. If there's a felony conviction, there's a 69% chance that the rapist will actually spend time in jail. Of the 39% of rapes that are reported to police, then, there's only a 16.3% chance that the rapist will wind up in prison. If you factor in all the unreported rapes, 94% of rapists walk free.

Hotch stared at the screen. Emily was one of those numbers now, one of those percents. Little did he know, she had already been one.

*******

It was late in the afternoon when Emily finally fought up the courage to head to work. Hotch had left her a note, saying he wanted her to stay home for the next few days. It wasn't a choice, but an order. Of course, she flat out rejected it. She couldn't just sit at home and do absolutely nothing. She had to be at work to get her mind off of things – or so she told herself. In reality she didn't want to be alone.

Her heart began beating erratically as she stepped into the elevator. Bruises matted her body, her ankle was sprained, and she had dark circles under her eyes. She looked like the living dead. How the hell was she going to explain it to the team?

The elevator came to a slow halt and rung when it reached her floor. Taking one last deep breath, she walked out. In the wake of a disaster; the last thing you needed to do was set off another bomb; instead, you walked through the rubble and told yourself that it wasn't nearly as bad as it looked. She told herself that, and her compartmentalizing skills kicked into gear.

How she managed to get to her desk without being noticed, she couldn't be sure. Sighing softly, she slowly edged herself into her seat. Pain was a bitch.

"Emily?"

Fuck.

"Yes?" She asked, keeping her head down.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Morgan questioned her.

"I couldn't just sit at home and do nothing," she told him, her voice never faltering. She spent years of lying and faking excitement as a kid. It was finally beginning to pay off.

Morgan placed a hand on her shoulder, and she grunted in pain. Surprised, he pulled away and she accidentally looked at him. As soon as she did, she regretted it. He starred at her, utterly baffled. Maybe her face looked worse than she originally thought. She could read the concern playing out across his face, and though he starred her down, she didn't break. Her mask held her emotions back well.

"Emily?" He dropped down to his knees in front of her.

"It was nothing," she told him quickly.

"Nothing?" Morgan reached out to her, but she shrunk back, cursing herself as she did so.

She couldn't show weakness, but it was there as she stumbled to come up with an explanation. "I…I…was mugged. I'm fine."

"Mugged?"

Fuck. What had Hotch told him?

"Funny, Hotch said he was mugged too, but he said you were in a car accident."

"Oh," she said lamely.

"Who did this?"

She could hear the anger in his voice, and when she turned to look at him, she knew he would kill whoever was held responsible. It wasn't the kind and trusting Derek Morgan kneeling in front of her, but someone else entirely. For some unexplained reason it scared her, and she had a hard time keeping her emotions at bay.

When he saw her beginning to shake, he morphed back into his original caring self. "Emily?" Morgan reached out to caress her hand.

It was a simple gesture, but unspoken words could only go so far, and she sharply pulled her hand away from his. As soon as she did it, she saw the hurt in his chocolate eyes. "I'm fine."

Morgan gave her an incredulous look. "Emily, maybe you should go home. I don't think Hotch wants you here anyway. Come on, I'll take you."

"I don't care what Hotch thinks."

"Prentiss?"

Emily froze at his voice. She knew he was standing behind her. Knew he would have that glare. She couldn't find words or the courage to face him, so she chose to ignore him all together.

"What are you doing here?" Hotch asked her. When she didn't answer or look up at him, he sighed. "Can I have a word?"

"No."

"What?"

Both men just stared at her, utterly shocked that she had refused an order from her boss. Morgan took a step back, sensing that whatever happened was between them. After all, what were the odds of both of them getting mugged in the same night at different places? He knew they were hiding something, but figured it was something they had to deal with and them alone. But man would he be there to help them if they needed it.

Before backing away, Morgan gave her a look. Emily nodded at him, letting him know that it was okay to back off.

Hotch studied her, and after a moment he realized that she _couldn't _get up. "Emily, come on."

"I…no. I rather stay here."

He gripped her left arm lightly, a place he knew she wasn't bruised or broken, and helped her up out of her seat. She willingly complied at first, but once she was up on her feet she froze where she stood. Hotch eyed her nervously when she only blinked.

"Emily?"

She snapped out of her haze then, but she didn't move. "I… okay. I'll go home," she stuttered.

Hotch just starred at her. The sudden change of mind didn't fit. Something was wrong. Her posture suddenly shouted defensive, and her eyes were fixed over his shoulder. Curious, he glanced behind him. His blood boiled at the sight. There on the far side of the room, was none other than Agent Harris himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks soooo much to those who reviewed. Truly means a lot and keeps me writing! (I know it doesn't seem like it, but it does)**

**I'm sooo sorry. I've been really busy with finals and everything. And I had a massive writer's block while writting this, so yeah. Idk if I like how this turned out, but w/e, maybe (hopefully) you guys will. Again. Sorry for the long wait. Hopefully (don't count on it) i'll update soon. haha. **

**Chapter 4**

This was what it felt like to be scared for someone else, someone you knew and loved: The pit of your stomach froze while your legs went to jelly. There was one single thud of your heart as you counted down the seconds until you became someone else entirely. And then, finally, your throat sealed shut, as you swallowed the fact that you could have stopped it from happening.

Hotch hadn't felt this way in a long time. Fear. The word was almost foreign to him, and yet he was afraid now– _for _her, because she clearly refused to let her weakness show. It was stupid for him to be scared. Sure, she had reasons to be. Him? Nothing happened to him, so why should he be scared? After all, what could possibly happen inside the BAU that was any worse than what already had? But you could reason with yourself all day and still have butterflies in your stomach.

Hotch felt his hand automatically clench into a fist. If looks could kill, Agent Harris would have dropped dead right then and there. It had gotten so quiet in the room that even the computer tech guy had stopped to watch. He felt, more than saw, Emily take the slightest of steps away from Agent Harris and towards Morgan.

Morgan – taking this small gesture as a sign – stepped in front of her. And him? Well, his attention was solely focused on Agent Harris, who had yet to notice them. And then, at that moment, he wanted to pull Emily into his arms and make her disappear. Like the game he played with jack, where you'd cover your face with your hands and you'd say, "Where's Jack?" Hotch wished it was that simple: close your eyes and you'd disappear.

Apparently, Morgan felt the same thing he was feeling, because the younger man whispered something in Emily's ear. Whatever it was, it had gotten her to leave the room, and he was thankful for that. Not to mention, he was impressed that Morgan had gotten her to leave. She was too stubborn and always unwilling to just give up.

Thinking it over, he realized that this was so unlike her. It unnerved him.

And it still didn't stop the feeling of emptiness overcome him as she left his side and navigated her way up the small staircase to his office. Emily walked with her head down, bracing herself against the stares of others. She didn't even turn back to look at him. It took all of his will power to stay where he was and not run after her.

Ever since the incident in Colorado with that religious freak, Hotch had began to watch Emily more carefully. There was too much that could go wrong: she might trip and fall; she could get shot; she could die. He'd like to imagine that just by keeping an eye on her, he could imbue her with the power of safety.

But nothing was ever that simple.

The truth was, though, that Hotch needed Emily far more than Emily needed him. Without realizing it, she'd put on a show for him everyday. He'd watch her and he'd see how easy it was to get lost in a world different from the one presented around them. Then something like this would happen, making him realize that there were sick fuckers in the world – like Harris – who made you realize that people weren't so kind after all. And this thought alone had him crossing the room and backing Agent Harris up into the corner.

"Hotchner? Is it?" Harris asked without missing a beat.

There was no time for modesty, so Hotch cut straight to the point.

"What are you doing here?"

Harris didn't even blink. "Same as you. Just doing my job." He paused, and then added, "How'd you get the black eye?"

It took all of his power and strength to not beat the crap out of Harris. Hotch took a deep breath in through his nose. He tried not to think of all the ways he could kill Agent Harris. But trying not to think about it, only made him think about it, which made him actually want to do it.

It was an unending cycle – a cycle that brainwashed him into somebody he wasn't.

Was this what their unsubs felt like?

"If you're not out of this building –"

The man actually had the nerve to cut him off. "You know, Hotch, I wasn't too thrilled about the police knocking on my door at four o'clock in the morning." Harris raised his eyebrows accusingly. "You didn't have anything to do with it. Did you?"

"What?" Morgan practically growled. "Hotch, _he _did this to Em?"

Hotch didn't even look at Morgan. He wasn't sure how Morgan knew what happened, but from the way he himself was acting around Harris, he figured it didn't take a genius to solve it.

Apparently his silence was enough to confirm Morgan's fears, because Morgan snapped then. "You fucking son of a bitch."

And Hotch had to hold out his arm to prevent Morgan from lashing out at the guy right then and there. He wanted nothing more than for his agent to kill Harris, but he also wasn't going to let Morgan sacrifice his job for it.

By now, everyone in the room was watching the fight unfold. Hotch took a glance towards Erin Strauss's office door and wondered how long it would take her to realize what was going on. Not too long he figured. She had so many moles snooping around; you didn't know who to trust.

"You'll pay for what you did." Hotch wasn't sure how he managed to keep his voice so calm, but he did. It frightened him.

"Is that a threat?"

Hotch didn't back down. If anything, he took a step forward. "If you ever – _ever – _touch her again… I swear…"

"You'll what?" Harris gloated. "Kill me? What the hell are you –"

And within seconds the man had crumpled to the floor. For a moment, Hotch was paralyzed by shock. It wasn't his hand who had made contact with the bastard's face, but Morgan's. And it took him a second longer to realize that Morgan hadn't _stopped _pummeling the man to the ground. Hotch reached out to break up the fight, but he retreated when he realized he didn't want Morgan to stop. If anything, he wanted to join Morgan.

However, before he could, Rossi had decided to play neutral and stop it.

If it was anybody other than Emily that this had happened to, he might have helped Rossi break it up, but it _was _Emily and that made all the difference. So he just stood there while Rossi sent him angry looks for not helping.

"Hotch," Rossi hissed. "Help. Do _something_."

But he decidedly chose not to. If Morgan wanted to kill Harris, he wasn't going to stop him. If anything, he would join him. But from the looks of it, Morgan was doing an excellent job of making his dream come true without any help.

He made a mental note to thank Morgan later.

"Do you _want _to get fired," Rossi shouted at Morgan, who was still struggling to take another swing at Harris.

"He hurt her," Morgan shouted frantically. "I don't care what the hell happens to me as long as this guy burns in hell."

Rossi looked utterly baffled. Reid looked like a frightened child. And him? Well, he just stood there. He agreed with Morgan. But he knew Rossi would too if he had seen Emily.

And then, the clicking of heals caused them all to freeze. When he finally looked up, it didn't surprise him to see Erin Strauss standing before them, tapping her heal, and glaring at them. "You two –" she pointed at him and Morgan, but not Harris. "In my office. Now."

If they were going down, Agent Harris was going down with them. "And don't you think –"

"_Now_," she emphasized. "And Agent Harris go back to your own floor."

He would have protested, but before he could, she was already walking away.

*******

"…I don't care what caused you two to act –"

"Agent Harris sexually assaulted one of my agents," Hotch cut in.

"_Wha_t?!"

Hotch had forgotten Morgan was in the room with them. Morgan obviously didn't know or considered that it had gone that far. So much for keeping it a secret.

"He _what_," Morgan hissed again, before glancing at the door as if he could see through it. "I'll kill him. I swear to God, I'll... I'll make him wish he was never born."

Erin rolled her eyes. "There'll be no killing here. Not under my roof."

She sounded like his parents. Hell, she sounded like him when he was with Jack. It made him sick.

"Agent Harris hurt one of my agents," Hotch told her calmly.

He thought she would have been angry, accused him of lying, or (if she was human) look somewhat shocked. But she did none of this. Instead, she gave him a look of sympathy and said, "I know."

He could have fallen over, but somehow he remained standing, not to mention glaring.

"I got a call from the hospital earlier today," she went on. "I was wondering when _you _were going to confront me about it."

He had forgotten that as soon as an FBI agent was admitted into the hospital the bureau got a call.

"Then you know," he pressed.

She sighed, a reaction he figured was coming. "I can't."

"Have you _seen _Emily?" Morgan asked, incredulously. "And you're telling me this guy is not even getting suspended?"

"God, I wish I could," she told them with more honesty than they thought possible. "He's done nothing wrong while working under my supervision. I can't fire him without probable cause."

Morgan's eyebrows fused together. "I think sexually assaulting –"

"It's her say over his. There was no evidence. No video footage. Nothing. I can't fire him for something that I _think _happened."

Morgan stood up so fast, his chair flung out from under him and it crashed into the wall. "I don't care what the fu –"

"Morgan," Hotch cut off. He wasn't going to have one agent victimized and another fired because of it. "Go. Just go. I'll handle this."

The man just looked annoyed. "Hotch, I care for –"

"I know you do," he told him calmly. "And she cares for you too. She wouldn't want you to do something stupid because of what happened to her." When that didn't seem to convince the younger man, Hotch added, "She's alone in my office. Maybe Reid's there. But I'm sure she'd rather have somebody who already knows and understands."

That got him to leave, but not before Morgan punched Erin's wall and mumbled, "This is fucked up."

Hotch waited until the door slammed shut before confronting her again. "Hasn't Emily been victimized enough already? How is she suppose to come back to work, knowing that _he _and his friend are here."

Erin instinctively went into calming mode, softening her voice. "I know you're upset, but I'm doing everything I can."

Hotch scraped his gaze over her, who was just sitting there, yelling at him. "Yeah. You look like you're working hard." He looked up at her. "I never want to see Agent Harris in this building or within one hundred yards of Emily ever again."

"It's not that simple," she told him. "He has family connections to get him –"

"Hell, I don't care if he's king of the world. I want Agent Harris –"

"I know you're mad, but there is –"

Hotch cut her off, his voice rising, "Just please. Think. Imagine if it was your daughter. What would you do?"

"If it was my daughter," Erin snapped, "I'd be thrilled because it would mean she was still alive."

The truth exploded without warning, and like a poison, it was the last thing either of them wanted to touch. Hotch glanced at the pictures covering her walls of her kids. He knew she had kids, but never – _never _– had she mentioned it. Never had anybody else mentioned it either. And then a thousand question swarmed his head. When? Where? How? And he came to the conclusion that it had happened long before he even met her and long before she even joined the FBI.

You'd think that there'd be some kind of network between them, one that let a guy who was in danger of losing someone he cared about instinctively recognized someone who'd already walked that barren road. But there wasn't.

Hotch wanted to apologize. Even wanted to offer his condolences, and tell her he was sorry for mouthing out. But when he opened his mouth, the words were still sour from the fight before. He didn't even recognize the man who spoke. "Then you of all people," he said, "you should understand."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

His comment must have got to Erin Strauss on some level, because the next thing he knew was Agent Harris had gotten a transfer. And not _just _a transfer. The man had been shipped off to somewhere out in California. As a result, he sent Strauss an over dramatic and larger than necessary fruit basket with an apology/thank you card attached. He knew the basket couldn't take back what he said, but one day he promised himself to make it up to her.

As for now though, he had bigger things to worry about.

There were _two _men that assaulted Emily that night. Not one. Two. Someone he wouldn't be able to point out in a crowd if his life depended on it, and he was pretty sure Emily hadn't seen his face either. Or maybe she had and wasn't willing or ready to admit it yet. Either way, he wasn't going to stop searching until that man was found and shipped off to California too.

There was a knock on his door then, so he shouted that it was unlocked. He wasn't going to lie; it surprised him when Derek Morgan walked through his door. It was a rare occasion for the younger profiler to enter his office willingly and usually it was only because Morgan had a report done. However, the look on his face told Hotch it was something else.

"Morgan," Hotch greeted in his normal, blunt way.

"Hotch, we…" he trailed off, realizing that whoever 'we' was hadn't followed him into the room. "What? Emily, get back here."

Hotch's face morphed into a frown as he watched Morgan leave and then come back with a nervous looking Emily. It had only been a couple of days, but he gave her strict orders that she wasn't aloud to come back until her bruises had healed. At a quick glance it wasn't noticeable at all, but if you looked closer you could see the bruised eye hidden beneath layers of makeup. Apparently, she tried to sneak her way back in without his consent.

Glancing back down and ignoring them decidedly, he said, "No."

Morgan smiled mischievously. "Told you so."

At that, Emily wrapped that stupid mask of courage around her and locked her emotions away. "What? No? That's it. You're not even going to hear what I have to say?" She glared at them. "I'm fine."

"No you're not," Hotch and Morgan both said in unison.

Emily's glare hardened. "Yes, I am. You guys act like I haven't been put at danger before. In case you've forgotten I was hit in the head with a four by four out in Milwaukee or better yet Colorado." Her voice held nothing but frustration and sarcasm, which made him slightly angry. "I'm sure you all remember when Reid and I were held hostage by that religious freak."

"But you went willingly," Morgan pointed out.

"So? It's really not any different."

"Yes it is," Morgan argued.

Hotch pinched the bridge of his noise and let out a deep sigh. Their bickering was driving him to insanity. "Emily…"

"No," she snapped at him. "Don't _Emily _me. I. Want. To. Come. Back. What don't you get about that?"

Sighing, he put down the file he had been looking at and _really _looked at her. Her posture shouted nothing but defense and determination. Maybe, she really was ready to come back. Maybe, she had forgotten. But then he saw that faded bruise under her eye and everything came back. How could she have forgotten when he hadn't? It had only been a week. There was no way in hell that he was going to risk her emotional well-being by bringing her back too soon.

"Sit, Emily." When Morgan sat too, he gave the darker man skin _the look. _

Morgan cocked his head to the side in frustration. "Oh, no. I'm staying right here."

Emily rolled her eyes. "It's fine, Morgan. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

With a lot of hesitation on Morgan's part, the younger man finally got up, but not before he threw one last knowing glare at Hotch.

"Look," Hotch began once Morgan had left, "It has only been a few days. We made a deal that as soon as your bruises –"

"No," she cut him off. "_You _made the deal Hotch. Not me. I said maybe."

"That was an order, Prentiss, not a suggestion."

Emily crossed her arms over chest and turned to stare out the window, lost in a thousand thoughts, not a single one of which Hotch could guess. "I'm fine...really."

But her voice cracked, which was enough to prove that she wasn't. Not all.

"…Emily," Hotch soothed. "It's okay. We understand. We aren't going to think any less of you if you take the next few days off. Okay?"

And then she turned on him so suddenly, it surprised the both of them. "Damn it, Hotch. I know! I've been through it before and dealt with it fine. I handled it then, so I think I can handle it now," she shouted at him, and then when the realization settled in at what she just admitted, she paled.

He was the first to recover from her outburst. "What?" he asked calmly, but inside he was fuming.

"I…" Emily began, but trailed off. "It was nothing."

"…What?" Hotch tried again and this time, he was up out of his seat, walking towards her. "When?"

But Emily was already backing up towards the door. "It was a long time ago."

"Emily."

And that did it. His voice was enough to stop her in his tracks and she broke down so suddenly, Hotch really wasn't sure what to do about it. She was crying, so angry at herself, but she couldn't stop. The only time she ever aloud herself to be weak was at home, in the shower, so the water could wash away her tears and sorrows. But the harder she tried to stop, the harder her tears came. It was as if he had broken her solid mask of courage, which was impossible to fix while everything poured out.

Hotch reached out to touch her and when she sharply pulled away from him, he grabbed her and forced her into a tight embrace. At first, she resisted, but he held her in such a position so she couldn't move. And when she finally gave in it, her knees gave out from under her and he eased them to the floor.

"You're okay," he soothed. He rested his head on top of hers and swallowed the scent of her.

He hadn't been this close to a woman – any women – in a long time. He felt almost sick to say that he was enjoying it. Especially with Emily. His subordinate who was almost raped not to long ago and who was now having an emotional breakdown. God, he was such an asshole.

"I'm sorry," she said into his shirt.

Thankfully, she didn't pull away. He liked having her right under his nose, in his arms. It was comforting to know that she was safe there.

"It's okay. You've done nothing wrong," he told her. "If you need someone to talk to…I just wanted to let you know that I'm here."

"I trust you, Hotch," she told him, just barely bringing the words to life. "I do. I just…"

He wanted nothing more than for her to tell him about her past, but the profiler in him told him she wasn't ready yet. Sighing, he pulled away slightly to look her in the eye. "Are you sure you're okay?"

She bit her lip. "Can I come back?"

"Emily…" he began, warningly.

And then just like that, she tore herself away from his strong grip. For a moment, he saw nothing but hatred in her eyes, and as much as he wanted to pull her back into that hug, he knew better. "You guys have a case right?" she asked.

His jaw tightened. "Yeah, JJ and Garcia are putting some things together."

"I want to come," she insisted. The way she said it, told him she already made up her mind.

This is not how he imagined her return. He hadn't pictured them on the floor and he hadn't pictured them arguing. This subject was the last thing he wanted to talk about and he couldn't pinpoint exactly why _she_ wanted too. "We already talked about –"

"And I already told you, Hotch," she practically growled at him. "I'm fine."

"Why?" he asked sternly. "Why do you want to come back so bad?"

"Because I don't want to be alone," she admitted, and her voice cracked again.

Hotch closed his eyes and tried to push aside the anger that swelled up inside him. Why hadn't he known that? Now everything made sense. It was not that she_ wanted _to come back; it was that she didn't _want _to be alone. If they left on a case, then she _would _be alone. At least, if she came with them, he could make sure she was okay.

She looked up to meet his eyes then, and he was sure he felt his heart break. "I can't... I can't stay home. When I'm alone I remember. I remember the past and I remember what happened now. And then I try to sleep, but I can't sleep because I'm alone and then I remember. God, Hotch, you have to understand…"

She was crying again. Heart wrenching sobs that tore him apart. If it was anybody else, he never would have reached out and pulled her into another hug, but because it was Prentiss, he did just that. And he let her cry into his shoulder, he let her tell him why she needed to come back, and while she did all this, he ran a reassuring hand through her hair.

"Please, Hotch?" she begged.

"Okay."

At least this way, he told himself, she wouldn't be alone.

*******

Erin Strauss let out an exasperated sigh. The fact that she had managed to send Agent Harris out to California was enough to send her into a world of bliss. She liked to imagine that she wasn't the bad guy, that she really was good at heart, but she knew that wasn't true at all. Ever since her daughter died ten years ago, she had a habit of taking her anger out on others, and Agent Hotchner just happened to be one of those others. But what he had said got to her because it _could _have been one of her daughters, so she sent the bastard far far away from here.

But she hadn't thought about the consequence, which was Agent Harris's cousin, Justin O'Keefe.

"Why the hell did he get shipped off to California?"

As much as she hated herself, she shrunk back a little in her chair. The man was _very_ muscularly and looked like he could snap her in half with his fingers. "Agent O'Keefe, I know you and your cousin were close, but –"

"This was all Hotch. Wasn't it? And that stupid girl, Prentiss?"

Erin's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "How do you know about that?"

Agent O'Keefe hesitated, but only for a moment. "_Everyone _knows about. Hell, that black guy decked my cousin in front of everyone. If anybody should be sent away, it should be _that_ guy, not Harris."

"Look, if you really miss your cousin that much, I can send you out there too. I'm sure they can make room for one more."

O'Keefe laughed a deep and unfriendly laugh. "Yeah, like I'm going to mess up my chances at getting into the BAU."

"Oh, yes. I forgot you had your eye on that position." There was a beat of silence as Erin wondered if she should have picked him instead of Emily to snoop on Aaron Hotchner. Looking at him now, she was almost positive he wouldn't have quite on her like Emily had, but she already made an unspoken agreement to be friendly with Agent Hotchner from now on. Sighing, she said, "I don't think a position is opening anytime soon."

"Well," O'Keefe sneered, "maybe, I _will _start my own BAU down in California with my cousin."

Erin did liked the idea of him leaving. For the last three years he had done nothing but bothered her about a job in that BAU. "Yes, that would be nice."

"But, you know, I would need to know how things are done. Maybe, I could go on their next case with them to see how they run things. You Know?"

It took her a minute to think it over. The others didn't need to know that Agent O'Keefe was Agent Harris's cousin and she was pretty sure Emily was still taking some time off, so she saw no harm in it. And plus, it would get this guy off her back without letting him into the BAU. "Okay, I'll let Agent Hotchner know that you'll be joining them on their next case. I'm sure you'll enjoy it very much."

O'Keefe's lips turned upwards into a sinister grin. The only thought running through his head was Agent Prentiss and that night in the copy room. Starting off where they left off would be a perfect reunion. "Yes, I think I will enjoy it very much."

--

**A/N: See, I haven't forgotten. =)**

**Hope it was okay. **


End file.
